Page 60

“I always mean it when I say I’ll put you where I want you.”
“Even if we’re in the middle of a war?”
“Especially then.”
I slide my fingers through her hair, tugging gently until she tilts her face up to mine.
“You’re mine, Cherise,” I say, voice low and rough. “And no ghost from your past, no diplomat with a badge, no ex-husband with a death wish is going to change that.”
She presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “Then give me something real to do. Make me part of the next move.”
“You already are.”
Her eyes narrow slightly. “Not just as bait.”
“No.” I lean in until our foreheads touch. “As a threat.”
She grins, slow and dangerous. “Now you’re speaking my language.”
I step back, brushing a knuckle down her cheek. “Then give me a moment to put the final touches on,ma petite soldate. Then we’ll go hunting.”
Because the game’s changed. We’ve got a name, a face, a weakness.
Logan returns, dragging a hand through his hair as he paces the ops room behind me. “You’re sure about this?”
“No,” I say. “But Juliette won’t talk to anyone she doesn’t think can get her out. Fortier gave her just enough fear to stall. I’m going to offer her relief.”
“She’s dangerous,” Logan warns. “Arrogant. Smart. You slip for a second, she’ll eat you alive.”
I don’t answer. I’m already too deep in the headspace.
“Tell me again why you need her?” Logan continues. “We can pull her records. Freeze her assets. Hit her with a blackout protocol.”
“She’s not a soldier,” I say. “She’s not stupid enough to fight. She’ll retreat unless I walk into her den wearing fangs.”
Logan shakes his head. “And Cherise? You’re absolutely sure about this?”
“Yes.”
“Nick…”
“She knows Juliette’s tells. Knows the look in her eye when she’s trying to play innocent. She’s not just cover. She’s leverage.”
He leans on the console, glaring at me. “And if Juliette recognizes her as Hector’s ex-wife?”
“Then I put Cherise on her knees and remind the room who she belongs to.”
Logan snorts under his breath. “You’re not even pretending to be impartial anymore.”
I ignore him, because he’s right. I’ve stopped pretending. Time for Cherise and me to go.
I find her in the kitchen, looking out of the window toward the sea.
“Do you still sail?” she asks.
“I do, as a matter-of-fact. I’ve been thinking about putting a boat in the marina and living there.”
“Promise me that someday, we’ll sail off into the sunset—not necessarily forever…”